Welcome to our blog! Come and join us on what we hope will be interesting and exciting adventures. Having enjoyed camping with our children decades earlier, we dreamed of revisiting favorite state and national parks as well as new destinations across the country, although this time it wouldn't involve setting up a tent or sleeping in our 1970 VW bus. In 2008, we purchased a travel trailer (more on that later).

Our Vacation Cottage On Wheels

Friday, February 19, 2010

Many RV resorts have social calendars full of group activities so that people can get to know each other and, perhaps, be distracted from obsessing over the outragous rental fees that they're paying. Popular activities include shuffleboard, Texas-Hold-Em, Line dancing, BINGO, sewing, painting, and an "Open Mike Night" where residents are free to exhibit any talents that they might have.

Maureen and I thought that the latter sounded like fun. She's a great impromtu singer and I, well... Let me see... I can read and write. Now I know that reading and writing is a fairly common skill (except maybe in some of the RV parks that we've visited, you know; the ones with trailers that haven't been on the road since Dewey ran for President and each site has a collection of discarded appliances and miscellaneous yard crap on display, along with the requisite pack of semi-feral cats or overweight dogs). I, on the other hand, am an author. Or, maybe, a budding author." I have been told that I have some small talent for stringing words together into somewhat readable sentences and even paragraphs. And so, even though one family member commented that some of my work was wordy, I have a few short stories I'm rather proud of and a novel that I've been working on (for the past four years). It was the introduction and first chapter of my novel that I chose to read from on Open Mike Night.

After a few of the park's management team got up to sing and perform some magic tricks, Maureen took the mike and sang "My Man." She did very well (one of the best performances of the night, in fact). I went next. The "stagehand" positioned the table and chair that I requested, all the while making a suspicious face at the stack of papers I held in my hands. That particular body language should have been a warning to me.

The clubhouse has a fairly respectable lending library. This fact had led me to believe that there were at least some literate folks in the audience who might enjoy hearing an author (okay, a scribbler) read from his latest work in progress. I imagined myself on a book tour, speaking at the local Barnes & Noble to an enraptured audience who had stood on line for hours just to hear a selection from a famous author's latest bestseller. Once again, I imagined something grand and God stood by laughing.

My novel takes place in the future. It follows a small family living during a modern ice age and a worldwide pandemic. The survival of mankind is in question and my hero is valiantly trying to record the stories of the displaced peoples that have lost their homes to the advancing glaciers or are fleeing from a terrible disease that had already killed millions. As the story progresses, the family sets out on a trip to a flooded Manhattan, now a Venice-like shadow of what it once was, but still a thriving metropolis struggling to save their city and live normal lives during a time when Nature has gone beserk. I try to portray how humans might respond to terrible circumstances during a time that many believe is the end of days for humanity. During their travels, the family learns several amazing secrets that, if known, could tear the world asunder with worldwide riots and race wars. Because of their knowledge of these things, the family is pursued by different groups, each with their own reasons for gaining this knowledge or making sure that it is never revealed.

As I began reading, there were severals calls from the back of the room complaining that I couldn't be heard. I moved the mike closer to my mouth and forged on. I quickly learned that at least some of my audience didn't appreciate my novel or, perhaps, just being read to. There was one particular voice calling from the back of the room. Striving to finish my reading, I heard only what sounded like mumblings until one word broke through my concentration and nearly stopped me cold. "BORRR-ING!" It was that same person, sitting in the back of the room with his friends and getting his jollies by issuing a play-by-play critique of my reading.

I glanced up at my audience, trying to guage their interest. Most of them seemed to be politely listening. I decided to forge on, knowing that I had only a couple of pages left to read and sure that the story would soon capture and excite even my vocal critic. Well, I got the "hook." The park manager approached and announced that there wasn't enough time for me to continue, even though it was still early and ithere wasn't a long line of people waiting to grab the mike. Trying to maintain my dignity, I announced that I was done and would welcome any comments or questions that the audience might have (sometimes I'm a glutton for punishment). "NO," the manager announced, "We don't allow that!" "Allow that?" "Allow that?" What did she mean, "Allow that?" I hadn't noticed any rules of order posted on the wall when we came in and thought that pretty much anything goes at an open mike gathering. Even so, I relinquished the mike and returned to my seat, glad that at least there was some polite applause as I did so (And NO, I'm sure that they weren't clapping because I had finally shutup and left the stage!).

As a nice lady who was sitting next to me began to praise my writing and assure me that she loved to be read to, Mr. "Boring" approached the mike. For some reason, he felt the need to justify his rude remarks by announcing to us all that he had attended Harvard and knew something about "Global Warming." Who the hell cared where he went to school (I doubt that is was at Harvard) and didn't he hear anything that I had read? The novel wasn't about the causes of the ice age or the pandemic, but only about how people might cope if there was one! JEEZ! Gimme a break!

Well, "Mr. Harvard," as I have come to call him, proceeded to sing. Or at least try. No, he couldn't even have been trying; he was terrible! He must have realized half-way through his selection that things were not going well, for he interjected a half-assed apology, "At least I'm better than the last guy!" Hmm, this guy deserved a fat lip. No, I didn't dash up to the mike and give him one, and no, I didn't even go looking for him afterward to question his curriculum vitae, which I was positive didn't include any ivy-covered halls of higher education. People who have attained that lofty peak don't usually feel the need to go around bragging about it. Especially to a bunch of RV'ers. Right? And I'm sure that the closest this guy ever came to doing research on global warming was when he studied the ice melting in his cocktail.

I learned something that evening about expectations and my fellow man. Oh, alright, I already knew that stuff, but I sure had it reinforced. But I did get some helpful advice and encouragement from the nice lady at my table. I'm pretty sure that she went to Harvard...

2 comments:

Anonymous
said...

I've just completed reading your entire Blog, and I enjoyed it very much. We have been Fulltiming now for 402 days. As I'm 51, and my wife is 49. We have just about everything u write about happen to us also, plus more. From getting lost in SC at night and finding ourself on a old unused jeep trail with our 38' DP to being ran over by my toad in WV while unhooking it from the MH, (still limping, and have backpain). Since we were traveling, it was 5 months before a Doctor took a MRI and found the problem. The RV parks have what I call 3 types of people..the perms, who live at the park year round, the 2nd type, the Birds, who fly down for the winter, and then the last type, I call the Temps, those of us who only stay for a few days and move on. The 3 types don't mix and the temps are at the bottom of the food chain. We were at a campground (RV Resort) in Yuma for 17 days, and not once did we speak with any of the perms or birds. In an example, I noticed a sign about a potroast dinner, I asked about it and was told that all the tickets had been sold, but we could attend if we waited till about 30 minutes after it started and we could have the left overs if any...needless to say, it didn't happen..good luck, this is the greatest life style.ps, we also are from Florida.

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Rocky The Wonder Dog

Camping Stories...

What Bears Do In The Woods...

"Don't go into the woods tonight unless you bring along a gun, the teddy bears are having a picnic..."

It's not just a song! It's true!

A little story that I submitted to one of the Web's RV Forums. I hope that you find it amusing and informative — this is serious stuff people!

While relaxing outside of our new Fun Finder trailer last week, my DW of 43 years and I reminisced about camping with our children some 40 years ago...

We visited Washington D.C. on one trip and then drove up to Matthews Arm campground in the Shenandoah Natl. Park in Virginia. We haven't been back there for many years since the kids grew up and we retired in Florida, but we remember certain things about that trip like it happened yesterday. The thing to know about Matthews Arm CG is that it was THE place to go - to see bears.

On our first trip, we were a young, new family without much experience camping, two toddlers and just a VW bus to use as our RV. The first day we were in the park, we had a surprise at dinner time. While we were sitting at our picnic table with our young children, just starting to eat our dinner, I spotted a black bear sauntering down the campground road - and headed our way.

This being our first experience with a bear not in a cage of some sort, we were both thrilled - and scared. I shouted out a warning and told everyone to get into the van. The bear had turned off the road and was heading toward our site. Before I knew it, my wife had scooped up the kids and jumped into the van, slamming the door behind her. As I pounded on the door, looking over my shoulder at the advancing ursine invader, my wife just stared out the window at me in dazed amazement- as if she couldn't understand why I was still outside with the bear!

She shouted through the glass that I should get in there with her and the kids - "RIGHT THIS SECOND!" I managed to finally get her to understand that I would be VERY glad to, if only she would UNLOCK THE DOOR!

Well, I made it inside and, after climbing onto our picnic table and chewing on everything that looked like or smelled like food, the she-bear, as it turned out, ate our dinner and then climbed down and walked away.

Amazed at what happened, I waited until the all-clear was sounded and ran across the way to a neighbor's camp site. Yes, they said, the she-bears come around every evening at dinner time, and didn't we NOTICE that we were the only ones still having dinner when ALL the other campers around us had finished and quickly cleaned up and put everything that would attract a bear safely away? Well, nooo, we hadn't noticed and learned an important lesson about bear country: Ask about potential bear visitors when you arrive and be prepared to hustle when the time comes - and, oh yes, eat early and keep a spare car key in your pocket at all times! A mother's protective instincts toward her family don't always include her husband!

By the way, the other lesson we learned was that, although the she-bears came around at dinner time, the much bigger he-bears came around later. I've still got a collapsible water jug with deep tooth marks in it that got chewed on by a big fellow who came around in the pitch dark that same night. After being up most of the night, we left early the next morning...

Another "Bears In The Woods" Story... Submitted By Me On RV.Net

I agree about the danger in treating these animals as friendly "pets." I've seen foolhardy people ignore warnings about the danger of bears time and time again.

On another trip to the Shenandoah N.P., I watched in amazement as one jerk chased after a female black bear and her cub, trying to get ahead of them so that he could get that perfect "Kodak Moment" photo. All the while, a very annoyed ranger was chasing him, demanding that he cut off the chase.

Anyone who camps should be knowledgeable enough about the wildlife that they might encounter to know how dangerous a sow could be when accompanied by a cub. Maybe more people need to have a close encounter and come to know how lucky they are to not have been confronted by a bear.

On another trip, my family and I were tent camping in Shenandoah with a coworker and his family. It was chilly at night and we both had our catalytic heaters going in our closely pitched tents.

Late one night, after bedtime, we heard what we knew was probably a large male passing through the campground, knocking garbage cans out of their concrete-based highway divider-bent-into-a-ring protection. We could hear his progress as he went from can to can, coming ever closer to our tents. They might as well have been playing the "Jaws" da-dum-da-da-dum music for all the fear we felt.

We were huddled in the very center of our tents when the bear hit the garbage can not a dozen feet away; the one we had filled with the night's dinner scraps, including corn cobs soaked in butter. The bear went to work on our garbage. We could hear every grunt and breath from where we were.

When things went silent we thought that he had moved on. He hadn't. We heard the crunch of leaves under his heavy footsteps as he approached our tent and paused just outside.

We were praying that our toddler and young daughter wouldn't wake up and begin crying. The bear was snuffling, circling the tent. When he reached the middle of our encampment, right between the two tent fronts, pitched not a dozen feet apart, he stopped. Silence again. More silence.

My wife had a crushing grip on my bicep. Well, that was one helluva long night. The bear must've fallen asleep in between our toasty, warm tents, oozing nice heat out through their canvas into the night air. We sat up listening to him breathing, not 6 feet away. I'm not sure when he finally left, but one moment we could hear him out there and then he was gone.

And so were we the next morning. That was the last time we camped there.

We need no further education about avoiding bears. After leaving Virginia, we moved on down to the Great Smokey Mtns. N.P.

On arriving at the Cades Cove gate, a ranger told us to be careful - the night before, a black bear had torn his way into a tent holding two female campers AND the grapefruit that they had cut and set aside for their breakfast in bed.

The ranger informed us that the girls froze and were not harmed, but that they probably had to change their shorts after the bear left.

We were as nervous as hell from that point on. I think that was the point in time that I started dreaming about owning a nice, hard-sided RV...

A New Blog - Check It Out!

1990 Toyota Celica GT

The Restoration of My 1990 Toyota Celica GT

Well, she might not be a 1964 Corvette Stingray or a 1959 Porsche 1600 Super (both of which I owned once, early in my marriage and sold for PEANUTS!), but she's mine, she's paid for, and she deserved to live on.

So I decided to return her to the pristine (or better) condition that she was in when she rolled off the factory floor at Toyota Motors in Japan nearly twenty years ago. As you'll soon see, she's a beauty. She'll be refered to as "Yoda" from now on (Sorry, Karen, but "Yoda" makes more sense and a married man shouldn't give a name to his car that's the same as an old girlfriend's.)

I've created a linked blog all about my owning automobiles that are very valuable TODAY, but weren't so much 30 or 40 years ago, and were sold for PEANUTS (But who knew, right? I mean, I would put every penny I had on Microsoft way back when it was a startup selling for PEANUTS and now would have someone who worked for me writing this blog, but WHO KNEW?

If you want to see more outstanding writing, maybe pulitzer quality, check my other blog at: